I've Been Loving You for Quite Some Time
by chalantness
Summary: "So, what does a girl have to say to get a sparring partner around here?"


**Title:** _I've Been Loving You for Quite Some Time_  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~4,300  
**Characters:** Grant/Bex  
**Summary:** "So, what does a girl have to say to get a sparring partner around here?"

**I've Been Loving You for Quite Some Time**

If you'd ask him, Grant couldn't tell you the last time he actually remembered any of his dreams, but he knows with absolute certainty that they were probably all nightmares. It's common for a lot of the boys who end up in correctional facilities, and for Grant, that'd been at least six or seven years ago. He actually couldn't remember that detail, either.

He supposes that's got to be ironic in some way.

But he hasn't had trouble sleeping at all in the last few years, despite… well, _everything_, really. Some of the stuff they see isn't easy to stomach and that's mostly because what their school had them doing wasn't exactly legal or even the slightest bit humane sometimes. He'd like to believe that the reason he didn't have trouble sleeping at the end of each day is because he was simply too tired to be bothered with nightmares or errant thoughts and not because he'd just become immune to the fact that they were assassinating people for one cause or another. They're supposedly getting rid of horrible people and therefore bettering society, and Grant believes it to some degree, but still. They're _killing_, and it's kind of disturbing to think that none of them seem to lose a wink of sleep each night over what they do.

…_Did_. What they _did_.

Grant glances at the clock sitting on the nightstand. 5:50 AM. He'd been awake for maybe ten minutes now, willing himself to try and fall asleep again to squeeze in another hour now that they, you know, _have_ that luxury. Gallagher Academy is a lot more relaxing than Blackthorne ever was and that's kind of the best thing, ever.

By 6:02, he's out of bed and shivering slightly against the sudden cold that hits after he's thrown off his covers. He changes into a pair of basketball shorts and a white tee, laces into his shoes and heads out of their dorm room. This wouldn't be the first or even fifth time since the merger with Gallagher that he's wandered the campus in the early hours of the morning, which he figures must be allowed since he hasn't been asked to stop. That's also a nice change from Blackthorne. At least he doesn't have to do morning drills anymore.

He heads over to the P&E barn with the thought of maybe getting in a few weights and maybe some cardio or something before breakfast, but as soon as he's close enough, he realizes someone's already inside. For a moment, he's a little annoyed. He's not in the mood to make casual conversation.

But he steps inside, anyway, and feels himself smirking a little when he sees who it is.

Bex.

She's lying on her back doing bench presses, and he can tell by her breathing that she's been exercising for a while now. Well, that, and there are two water bottles on the bench beside hers and one of them is empty.

He finds himself walking over to hear before realizing that's what he wanted to do, and when he wraps his hand lightly around the middle of the barbell, all she does is look up at him to meet his eyes, breathing still steady and body mostly relaxed. It figures he wouldn't be able to surprise her, though honestly, he wasn't even trying to, either.

"Should you be doing this without a spotter?"

She pushes against the resistance of his hand and sets the barbell onto the lifts. "It's not like I was benching anything ridiculously heavy," she says, and yeah, he'll always be a little in love with her accent. Maybe that sounds sissy or something, but whatever. It's the truth.

"Doesn't matter. If someone was trying to sneak up on you, they could definitely do some damage with this kind of weight."

"Even if the guy was a lot stealthier than you," she tells him, "I would've been able to kick his arse."

He chuckles.

She grins, letting go of the barbell when he does and then sitting herself up. He hands her the towel that's draped on the bench next to her water and she thanks him before dabbing at her forehead. A little sweat slides down her workout top, and yeah, he looks, but then she catches his eyes and _smiles_ at him, so he thinks she doesn't mind.

"Just so you know," he says after a moment, making her look up to meet his eyes. "I can be a hell of a lot stealthier than you think."

"I know," she says with a laugh, sounding sincere about it rather than condescending, and then asks, "But you wouldn't try to attack me, would you, Grant?"

He can tell that she's teasing, but he still answers truthfully.

"No."

She nods a bit, smiles like she genuinely believes him, and he thinks that this must be a first. He knows that she knows what they did at Blackthorne, probably figured out in detail what they were trained to do, and yet he can tell that she wasn't lying to him. She believes he won't hurt her and she's not even a little bit afraid of what he's capable of.

He didn't realize how refreshing it'd feel for someone to actually trust him like she and everyone at this school seems to.

"So, what does a girl have to say to get a sparring partner around here?"

"Promise I'll make it to breakfast without any torn muscles or broken bones and I'll consider it." She tips her head back when she laughs, and he decides that he may love her laugh as much as her accent. He feels himself smiling as he watches her. "Yeah, I figured that was a long shot."

"I'll get you breakfast if I do any damage to your arms," she says as she stands, and he follows her to the middle of the mats because honestly, that promise sounds even better.

... ...

There's a bruise on the side of his left leg that only hurts a little whenever he takes a step, and when he had her pinned down at one point, she dug her nails into his bicep so hard that he felt like she was going to draw blood. But other than that, he comes out of the P&E barn in one piece and considerably less banged up than he'd been expecting, and that's mostly because they were kind of playing around the whole time and not at all being serious about overpowering the other. He doubts it was a productive workout for either of them, but whatever. He hasn't had that much fun during a spar in forever, and considering she'd been laughing so hard that her eyes watered, he thinks the same goes for Bex.

"Had a good workout?"

Zach looks up from the bagel he's smearing cream cheese onto, gets that half-smirk, half-smile of his on his face, and Grant glances down and sees that, sure enough, the scratches on his arm are kind of visible underneath his sleeve since he hasn't put his blazer on yet. Of course nothing ever gets by Zach.

Beside him, Cammie looks at the marks and gives a concerned smile. "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

"Nothing too bad," Grant reassures.

She laughs a little, like she knows that her best friend could've done a lot more damage if they were sparring seriously, and Zach hands her his bagel once he's finished. She frowns at him. "I'm perfectly capable of putting cream cheese onto a bagel myself, you know," she says, except she doesn't actually sound annoyed at all, and Zach fights off a smile.

"Just eat the bagel." She sets it down, pops a grape into her mouth. Zach laughs and shakes his head. "Have you always been this stubborn with everyone, or am I just special?"

Grant doesn't catch whatever answer Cammie gives him, though, because he catches a blur out of the corner of his eye and has his out in time to catch the apple Bex tossed at him before it could fall to the floor. She smiles like she's not at all surprised he caught it and sets her breakfast onto the table.

"Glad to know your reflexes work properly," she says.

"Yeah?"

"It was questionable this morning."

"Noted," he says with a laugh, and she smiles, sits down and pushes a bowl of cinnamon sugar oatmeal in front of him before turning to ask Liz about today's COW assignment.

... ...

Her favorite place to study is this table in the very back corner of the library.

Sometimes she'll be with one or more of the girls and they probably get a lot more chatting and laughing done than actual studying, but most of the time, like right now, she sits by herself with her notes and flashcards spread out across the table and her hair clipped up into this messy bun that's also kind of really sexy. Her blazer's draped over the back of her chair and, as he walks closer, he sees that she's taken off her Mary Jane's and left them underneath the table with her bag. For a second, he thinks twice about trying to disturb her.

"Hey, B."

She looks up from whatever she's reading and gives him a tired smile, setting the papers down. "Hi," she greets.

"How's the studying going?" he asks, mostly just to start a conversation but also because he can tell she's a lot more exhausted than she looks. She shrugs a little and he sits in the chair beside her. "Are you translating the Declaration of Independence into Mandarin?"

"Well, my characters needed a bit of brushing up…"

"It wouldn't be fair to be good at everything," he says, and they both laugh a little because, _yeah_. That's kind of an ironic thing to say. "You know, I'm pretty good at the Asian languages. I could help you."

She raises her eyebrows, a smile at the corner of her lips. "And why would I ask you for help?"

"A spy's only as good as her weakest trait."

"That's not how the saying goes."

"What do you know? You're British." She scoffs a little, swats at his leg right where she bruised it the other day. He flinches. "Do you want help or not?"

"I'd owe you," she points out, picking up her translations again. "I don't like owing people. They usually cash in the favor at ridiculous times and for ridiculous things."

"Then pay me back whenever you like, _however_ you like." He leans back in his seat, snatches the papers from her hands and doesn't miss the smile she's already giving him when he adds, "I'm sure you'll think of something decent."

... ...

All of the seniors are in the P&E barn training with Joe and Abby when it happens.

He's been getting flashbacks for a while now, which is kind of stupid, really. He's always been good at shutting out anything Blackthorne had them do whenever he wasn't on the job and he doesn't know why all of those memories choose _now_ to come rushing back, when he's actually getting used to being at Gallagher. But maybe that's exactly why it's happening.

He nearly strangles Bex.

They're in the back of the barn and everyone's sort of distracted with what they're learning with their partners, obviously. He doesn't really know why he chose Bex and why Bex even agreed to be his partner for today, and at first, it's just like their morning workouts that are starting to become part of their daily routine. But then she gives him that smirk of hers and whispers, "Show me what you've got," right into his ear, and he can't for the life of him place wherever he's heard that before, who must've said that in that exact same way right before he ended their life, but it's almost instinctive, the way his hands come around her throat. It doesn't even feel like it's _him_, more like he's watching someone do it for him.

And he's not sure how long he'd been like this before a hard blow right to his gut knocks the wind out of him and he's being flipped onto his back, the slam of his body against the mats echoing in his ear. He stares up at Bex, watches as she lifts her hand and almost touches her throat, but then thinks better of it.

"Bex," Abby laughs, sounding (hopefully) unaware of what Grant had just attempted to do. "That's not how the move is supposed to go."

"Sorry." Bex forces a pretty convincing laugh. "Grant was cheating."

He closes his eyes.

"Ms. Baxter," Joe prompts, sounding mildly amused.

"Yes, Mr. Solomon."

Grant opens his eyes when he feels her fingers wrap around his hand. He lets her pull him to his feet and she doesn't let go, just stares back into his eyes. His gaze drift down to her throat and he feels very much like punching the wall, _hard_, but that will only attract attention again.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asks, because it's out of his mouth before he can stop it.

She rolls her eyes, mutters, "Oh, _please_," and he doesn't really care if his laugh sounds a little hysterical. That's the most comforting thing she could've said.

... ...

He sort of lets his thoughts wander while dinner's being served, not focusing on anything in particular as everything talks around him. He knows that Liz and Jonas keep sneaking glances at him, and every once in a while, Cammie will lean in and whisper something into Zach's ear, though Grant couldn't tell you for sure if she's actually asking about him.

"Scoot over."

He and Macey both look over their shoulders to see Bex standing there, eyebrow raised expectantly at Macey, who huffs but still complies, sliding down the bench to make room for Bex to sit between her and Grant. And Grant can't really help it if he finds himself staring at her throat again. It seems like he didn't leave any marks, or if he did, she must've been hiding it with makeup or something, but he doesn't think that that's the case. Still, whether or not he left any traces doesn't make a difference to him or make anything any better.

He still tried to hurt her, and probably _was_ hurting her, if only for a few seconds.

He _hates_ himself for that.

"I think you should buy me a necklace." He blinks, looks up to find her staring back at him. "Did you even hear me?"

"Yeah," he says slowly, not really catching on. It's a different (mildly frustrating) feeling, to be around these girls and have them say things that a guy who's fluent in over a dozen languages can't even begin to decipher. He and the other senior guys have had this discussion in their common room multiple times, actually.

"We're going into town tomorrow," she adds, turning away to spoon some sautéed vegetables onto her plate. "I'll help you pick it out."

He waits for her to elaborate, feeling, for one of the few times in his life, hopelessly lost. That is, until he hears a soft squeal and glances up as Liz reaches for Jonas's arm, squeezing lightly. Cammie's got her face pressed into Zach's shoulder, trying to stifle her own laughter, and both Zach and Macey look entirely amused. He looks back at Bex, having half a mind to just _ask_ what's going on, but then it sort of just hits him that they're going into town tomorrow and Bex basically invited him to spend the day with her, just the two of them.

He leans in closer, asks, "Is this my favor?" and the smile she gets on her face kind of says it all.

... ...

He's standing with Zach, Jonas and Liz, talking about yesterday's Culture and Assimilations while they're waiting by the cars that'll take them into town. The weather's kind of perfect right now. It's kind of warm, but there's also this nice breeze coming through, and the sky's pretty clear, save for a few really white clouds.

He'll admit that they all look kind of preppy right now, but he doesn't think that's a bad thing, despite what any of the residents in Roseville will tell you. He's worn a lot of different clothes for a lot of different covers and he knows that looking a little more put together, even at a casual level like this, gives an impression of confidence and whatnot. He's willing to bet why everyone in town has always hated the girls that go here, despite the obvious envy of the whole rich boarding school façade. All of the girls that go here are pretty damn awesome and he'll admit it if one of them asks. Everyone in town probably just envies how self-assured they all are.

"_There_ they are!" Liz says.

Grant looks over his shoulder to see Cammie and Bex as they're walking out the front doors, arms linked between them and their heads tipped back a little in laughter. Her hair is clipped up again, except not as messily as she usually has it during their morning workouts or P&E classes, and she's wearing white shorts and two layers of tank-tops underneath this short-sleeved blouse with a flowery sort of design that makes him think of a tea set or something, which makes him chuckle a little because, you know. She _is_ British and all.

Not that he'll tell her all of this, but still.

When they come closer, Cammie and Bex unlink their arms and Grant catches Zach pulling Cammie into a kiss out of the corner of his eye. Then he turns to look at Bex, smiling, and she grins up at him and says, "Good morning."

"It is, isn't it?"

She laughs and he knows his smile gets a bit wider. He's oddly relaxed right now.

They talk for a few minutes about nothing in particular until they're being ushered into the vans. He sits in the back row and Bex ends up squeezed between him and Liz and Anna Fetterman even though the row is only supposed to sit three, which is… well, whatever. This is far from the most dangerous thing they've ever done, so unless a cop decides to pull them over, he thinks it'll be alright. All three girls are kind of little, anyway, so it's not like they're cramped back here, but he has to lay his arm across the back of the seats so that they can fit more comfortably and before the car even starts moving, Bex leans her head back against his bicep and starts debating with the other two on what color Anna should dye her hair. He doesn't even mind that Bex isn't really paying attention to him right now. He sort of just likes having her close and seeing her like this, totally calm and carefree.

When the van comes to a stop and the doors slide open, he helps Bex out of the car – meaning, he holds onto her hand as she steps onto the concrete – and watches as she squints a little against the sunlight before meeting his eyes. "So," she says, "Where to?"

"You know this town better than I do," he points out, because he's really only been here a handful of times. He remembers most of the layout and everything since he's, you know, a _spy_, but it's not like he knows what places are actually worth eating at or where she wants to shop or anything. It'd make more sense for her to just lead the way.

Besides, she's the kind of girl that likes having a choice.

"There's this vendor by the park that's supposed to have amazing hot dogs. That's not exactly something we get to eat a lot, so I thought…"

He just laughs, though, slips his hand in hers and says that he could definitely go for a few hot dogs right now.

... ...

They stroll down the streets after lunch (well, brunch) at the park and he gets déjà vu, walking with Bex around this town. It feels a little weird, actually, that Mr. Solomon is actually down the block from them, talking with Abby and Rachel rather than hiding somewhere and rattling off questions periodically into their earpieces.

But then Bex tugs him in the direction of this jewelry store and it sort of reminds him that she's been holding his hand ever since they left the park and that's a little weird, too.

But a _good_ weird, obviously.

He laughs a little when she lets go of his hand and makes her way towards the wall of necklaces. Honestly, sometimes it's easy to forget that these girls are, you know, _girls_. And that's not at all meant to be an insult or anything. He knows they gossip during meals and talk about things like hairstyles and shades of eye shadow or whatever during class when they may or may not be allowed to, and he's not _blind_. They're all kind of really pretty in their own ways. It's not that it's easy for him to forget that they're females or anything like that. It's just that he has a different tolerance for all that superficial, girly stuff from them than he would any other teenaged girl, almost as if the fact that they can knock out guys twice their weight and chemically alter a bottle of nail polish into an explosive makes it easier to listen to them complain about split ends or something.

It's kind of hard to explain, but whatever.

All the guys feel this way. He knows it because they've discussed it.

Anyway, he's sort of just watching her browse around when he catches her glance at a necklace in particular a lot longer than the others. She gets this sparkle in her eyes and this soft but bright smile on her face, and he follows her gaze to see what it is. It's this gold pendant that looks like an antique pocket watch, with roman numerals on the clock and this really intricate detailing of a rose on the back and a little, pale blue bow where the pendant is hooked onto the thin chain. It's kind of cool, actually. And he can tell she really likes it.

Still, she continues walking but doesn't really show any interest in the other stuff on the wall, then walks across the store to a table displaying a bunch of bracelets. He plucks the necklace off of the wall and walks over to the register while Bex's back is turned, slips the cashier a $10 and tells him to keep the change.

Bex smiles knowingly at him after they've left the store and he pulls her aside by her elbow and holds the necklace up.

"You didn't have to," she says, though he can tell she really likes that he did, anyway.

"I know."

He's about to hand it to her when she grasps his wrists and guides his hands closer to her neck. There's a very small second where he thinks about yesterday in P&E and his hands around her throat, and he's about to pull away when she grips his wrist a little tighter, looks up at him from underneath her long eyelashes and asks softly, "Can you put it on me?"

"Bex…" He hesitates.

She just looks back at him and he knows he shouldn't feel nervous at all, but he is. He actually fumbles with the clasp, but she doesn't even take a breath to tease him about it or something, like she knows exactly what he's thinking about and knows why he's acting like this, and he kind of loves her for it.

She gives him this soft smile as he draws the necklace around her throat, her fingers still wrapped around his wrists as he clasps it behind her neck, and it feels like a reassurance that she won't let him do anything he wouldn't want to. He begins to pull away but she keeps his hands there, slowly pries his fingers apart and flattens them over the sides of her throat so that he's sort of just holding her there, and when he meets her eyes, he doesn't see any hesitation or worry. She's just calm. He doesn't know how she can be so calm about this.

"Thanks," he says, not exactly sure why he sounds a bit out of breath right now.

She steps forward, stretches up a little and slants her lips over his instead of saying anything else, but he likes this better.

... ...

It's after dinner this time when they find themselves alone in the P&E barn. He's not entirely sure if they're allowed to be here right now, especially since it's getting late, but they've got time before they're supposed to be in bed and he's not in any rush to leave. They're lying on their backs with his arm stretched out and Bex using it as a pillow, and they're sort of just not saying anything. It's comfortable, though, this silence. It's peaceful and, other than their breathing, the only other noise he can hear is her playing with her necklace.

He feels her shift and turns to see her looking at him. "Better?" she asks, and he knows that can mean at least a dozen things right now, but he smiles and says, "Yeah," because that's the truth.

"Go to sleep," she says, closing her eyes.

He chuckles, thinks about mentioning curfew and people looking for them, but just closes his eyes, too, lets out this little breath as he drifts into a dream about him and Bex in London.


End file.
